Somewhere Between What Was and What Could Be
by EverTheDreamer
Summary: Reba, Brock said as Reba struggled to pull away, I still love you. Always have. Always will. Can you really tell me you don't feel the same way? BrockReba The whole thing with Brock opened up this door with you. Warning: RebaBarbaraJean FEMMESLASH
1. Chapter 1

"Reba," Brock said, entering the house of his first wife without knocking, "I need to talk to you."

"Please, Brock," Reba began, a false smile plastered to her face, "come on in! Make yourself at home. My plans for the day? Oh, nothing special. Oh, I'd love for you to hand around all day without notice, thanks so much for offering to!"

Brock scowled, "I'm serious, Reba. It's very important." He sat down on the couch and waited for her to sit.

Reba sighed and sat down beside him, "What's wrong?"

Brock paused for a moment, contemplating exactly how he should word his statement "Do you think that love ever dies?" he asked slowly, eying her carefully.

"Does love ever die?" Reba repeated, not entirely sure why this was supposed to be an important conversation. "No. No, I suppose not. Why? Is this about Barbara Jean?"

"No, Reba," Brock stated, shaking his head, hoping she would follow.

Reba stared back, afraid that she knew where he was going.

"Reba…" Brock continued when she didn't react, "It's about you."

Reba's eyes widened in shock as she stood up, distancing herself from him. "Brock," she warned.

Was Brock really asking her back? That would be wonderful and terrible at the same time. So much of her longed for her old life back so badly. She wished for the happy marriage and security that had been stolen from her six years ago; the husband, the love of her life, that had left her and the happy home. But so much of her loved her life now. She was happy. More importantly, she didn't want or need Brock's love anymore and she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to that place where she had. She wasn't sure she could put herself in a position to go through that pain again if he got bored.

Brock stood as well and stepped closer, "Reba, you said so yourself; you don't think love can really die."

Reba backed away from him, shaking her head. She forced a laugh, "But I didn't finish! I- uh- also think that it can change!" Brock continued to advance on her, a flirtatious smile on his face. "It can change! Romance can wither into platonic love! And friendships can grow," Reba stammered, backing herself against a wall. _Craaap._

Part of her longed to snatch her ex-husband close to her, so sorely missing what was stolen from her so many years before.

But another part was more than pleased with the way her life was.

Brock knew her better than anyone else ever could, though. He could read her so well. He could see in her eyes the passion that burned there, that wanted him, and it was just the motivation, the permission, he needed.

With Reba cornered, he leaned in slightly and pressed a kiss to her lips as she continued her stammering, effectively silencing her.

Reba started to push him away, but Brock deepened the kiss and Reba found herself pulling him closer. She ran her delicate fingers through his sandy brown tresses as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Reba couldn't decide if she wanted to pull him closer still or push him away. She was torn between longing and anger.

"Reba," Brock whispered as began kissing her lightly on the neck and unbuttoning the first few buttons of her blouse, "I have missed you so much."

Reba moaned softly and tilted her head back to give him the access he needed. She closed her eyes and though of the first time they had done this. He had been her first. "Brock-"

Brock trailed kisses down her neck as he finished unbuttoning her blouse. "Now- just- tell- me- you want me- as- much- as- I want you," he told her between kisses. He reached under her bra to massage her breast.

"Brock," the redhead moaned softly again, "Oh, God, Brock!" She wrapped one leg around his waist to pull him closer, unconsciously unbuttoning his pants.

Brock kissed her full on the mouth again and reached with his free hand to unzip her pants.

Reba's eyes snapped open as he did so and she instantly pulled away, instantly beginning to button her blouse as she did so.

"Oh, Lord. What did we almost do?" she asked, raising a hand to her head in disbelief. How had she let herself get so carried away?

"It doesn't have to be almost," Brock said, half-suggestively, half-irritated.

"No, it does. We can't do this, Brock!"

"Reba, BJ and I have been separated for over a year and divorced for over six months! Why can't we do this?"

"Did you ever think maybe I'm seeing someone, you mo-ron? Brock, I am saying no."

"You are not, Reba, I would know. The kids would have said something. Reba, why can't we make us work?" Brock asked, pained.

"There shouldn't even be an us! You and I divorced. This, us, is over. And, I am not the woman you left all those years ago, Brock Hart," the redhead informed him.

"And I'm not the man that left you!" Brock said, placing his hands on her upper arms.

"No," Reba began, "I'm _really_ not that woman anymore. You don't even know the half of it. I shouldn't have even let it get that far."

She tried to pull away but Brock tightened his grip, determined to make her listen. "Reba," Brock said as Reba struggled to pull away, "I still love you. Always have. Always will. Can you really tell me you don't feel the same way?"

"Of course not, Brock. We have three beautiful children together and we shared twenty years. You'll always have a place in my heart. I love you, but I'm not _in love _with you. So, Brock, let go."

"Not until you admit your true feelings. I know that you're still in love with me."

"Brock!"

"No, Reba. I know you haven't truly moved on. I haven't either."

"Brock, please! You're hurting me!"

Brock ignored her pleas, knowing full well that she would stop him if she meant it. She'd always been stronger, both emotionally and physically. He leaned into her and kissed her again, pinning her body to the wall with his own much larger body as he began unbuttoning her top again, picking up where he had left off.

The front door swung open with a crash and the pair heard a loud gasp.

"What is going on here?" a voice demanded.

Brock spun away and stared at the door, moth agape. "Oh, BJ, you scare me!" Brock laughed. "I thought one of the kids had walked in on us! That would certianly be a lot to explain! Their divorced parents having sex- or about to- in the living room? That would be... Awkward. What is it?"

Barbara Jean looked from the guilty-looking Brock, who was smiling sheepishly, to the tear-stricken Reba, who was leaning heavily against the wall, bruises already forming on her arm where Brock had roughly held her in place, her hair tousled, and her only half-buttoned blouse.

A fire appeared in Barbara Jean's eyes. Seething, she quickly crossed the distance between herself and the pair and grabbed Brock. She pulled him away from Reba and to the door. "Don't you ever touch her again!" she screeched, pushing him outside.

"BJ, honey, you and me are over. You can't get jealous just because you see me with another woman," Brock said, misunderstanding Barbara Jean's anger as he turned around to walk back inside. "Don't you think you're just overreacting a little?"

Barbara Jean pushed him back outside with one hand and leaned close. "If you so much as _think_ about laying a finger on her, I will, personally, make it so that the vasectomy you had is pointless," she whispered menacingly. "Now, out!"

"You don't even live here! That's Reba's call!" Brock argued.

"Get out, Brock," Reba croaked. She had slid to a sitting position on the floor and had buried her face in her hands.

"You heard her," Barbara Jean said angrily before slamming the front door closed on him.

Hearing the door slam shut, Reba allowed herself to cry.

"Oh, my goodness! Are you okay, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, concerned, as she rushed to Reba's side. "My poor baby! Are you alright?" she hugged the redhead tightly, wanting to protect her. "Tell Barbara Jean what happened."

Reba confessed the whole sordid story to Barbara Jean, from being caught between desire and repulsion, to pulling Brock closer but rethinking due to the repercussions sleeping with her ex could have.

"You poor thing! It'll be okay," Barbara Jean promised, she stood and assisted Reba in doing the same, but the shorter woman was so defeated and overcome with guilt that she just sank back to the floor. Barbara Jean looked at Reba, pain etched in her face as she watched the smaller woman cry. She knelt beside Reba and easily lifted her and carried her up the stairs to her bed where the redhead cried herself to sleep, exhausted.

Hours later, she awoke to a loud banging noise. Confused, she pulled herself out of bed to investigate. Halfway through the living room, she heard the banging cease and speaking commence. Walking into the kitchen, she saw Barbara Jean. With her stuffed animals.

"Well," Barbara Jean was saying as she held a cream colored beanie-baby dog, "I think I'll just stop in to see Reba, the love of my life. What's this? Reba and our ex-husband Brock kissing? But, Reba doesn't seem to be kissing back! You-dirty-rotten-scoundrel! How-dare-you-touch-her-with-your-unfit-hands?" Barbara Jean began beating a honey colored beanie bear with Reba's skillet on each word. Then Barbara Jean picked up the cream colored dog again and had it hug an orange tabby beanie cat. "I'll save you, Reba! I'll protect you-" She then picked up the skillet and began beating the bear again, "-from that dirty-sex-crazed-scoundrel!"

Reba couldn't suppress a smile, "Barbara Jean?"

The blonde screamed, turning around and throwing the skillet in the air behind her in order to hide what she had been doing. It clattered to the ground in front of the back door.

"Are you beating your beanie babies with _my_ skillet?" Reba asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"… No!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, making a face that suggested that the notion was entirely ridiculous. Barbara Jean pushed the bear to the floor and slid the hugging cat and dog behind her.

"Barbara Jean?"

"Okay," she sighed, "I was. But, Reba you don't understand how upset I was this afternoon! I was so scared that you wanted him back, and then I was scared that he had hurt you. And I was so angry that I hadn't showed up earlier, but I had just had to buy that darn beanie baby!"

"BJ, it's okay. I'm really glad you got there when you did, before it went any further," Reba told the taller woman as she hugged her.

"It's not fair, Reba! He was touching you and kissing your neck and a part of you wanted him to do it!" the blonde began, disgust and sadness dripping in her voice.

"We got carried away. But I thought of you, and I tried to stop it. I don't want that, him, anymore, Barbara Jean," Reba told her.

"But that didn't stop him!" Barbara Jean cried. "If I hadn't shown up, he very likely would have forced himself on you. And what if you had liked it? What if you chose him?"

"He got carried away. We both did. And, yes, at first, I… Was enjoying it. But, Barbara Jean, you need to be able to trust that I wouldn't choose him over you. Besides, he didn't force himself on me, because you _did_ show up. You saved me."

"If he would have hurt you… If he _does _hurt you…" Barbara Jean trailed off, anger evident in her voice.

"Despite what we both know he's capable of and the pain he could inflict- emotional or physical-, I don't think he would do that. I think that, had he looked up and seen my face, he would have stopped. I have to believe that. So do you. We both have to believe that he's not a monster," Reba said seriously, almost excusing what Brock had done to her that afternoon. The women lapsed into silence.

"Hey, I was thinking'," Reba said, breaking the silence.

"What?" the blonde asked.

"Well, wouldn't it be easier for you to 'protect me' if you live here?" Reba asked, reaching behind Barbara Jean to pick up the hugging animals. Then she darted into the living room, waving them in front of her, teasing her blonde pursuer.

Barbara Jean scowled as she chased the other woman before snatching her stuffed animals.

"Wait.." the larger woman began, the reality of what Reba has said hitting her. "Are you asking me to move in?"

Reba laughed and pulled the blonde woman onto the couch beside her before kissing her lovingly. "Yes, Barbara Jean. Yes I am."

"But, I thought you didn't want your kids to know about us."

"Well, I've thought about it and decided that a relationship that means so much to me shouldn't be hidden from the other people that I love," Reba said, smiling.

"Do you really mean it, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, almost afraid that Reba would say that she wasn't really ready yet.

Reba nodded, "But-" Barbara Jean's face fell. "- You'll have to bring your old skillet. I do believe you've dented mine!"

Barbara Jean's smile returned. "Deal!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, squeezing Reba tight in a protective hug.

The pair stayed in each other's embrace for the rest of the evening, both finding the safety, security, and contentment they longed in the other's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

"Morning, mom. Morning, Barbara Jean," Cheyenne said, bounding down the stairs. "You're here early."

Barbara Jean just exchanged looks as they sat on the couch, having really moved that morning to get coffee not too long before Cheyenne had walked into the room. The pair hadn't decided how to tell the children about them. Deciding they were ready was one thing, but coming out _and_ informing your children about such a big move and change was far easier said than done. Instead the pair focused on what Barbara Jean would need to bring over first and what could wait to be moved and what could be placed in storage until they needed it. They were also deciding Henry's rooming arrangements.

Cheyenne continued into the kitchen, not paying the whispering women any mind.

Van stumbled down the stairs soon after. "Morning, Mrs. H," he yawned, also making his way into the kitchen.

"Well, we could always put Henry in with-"

"Mom!" Jake called from upstairs, "do I have to go to school today? I don't feel good."

Reba sighed, putting her hand up to tell Barbara Jean to wait a second, "Maybe that has something to do with the gallon of ice cream you ate last night. As well as the six hot dogs. You're going!" she yelled. She turned back to Barbara Jean, "We could put him in with Jake… If you still want to move in." She laughed.

"You can't scare me away that easily," Barbara Jean said, joining in Reba's infectious laughter. "Morning, Kyra!"

Kyra eyes widened as she spied Barbara Jean and her mother sitting on the couch. "Morning, Barbara Jean," she waved before hurrying into the kitchen, refusing to meet her mother's eyes.

Reba made a face before shaking it off, assuming that Kyra was simply in one of her teenage moods. "Okay!" Reba said, standing. "Let's go then! We should be able to make a few trips today and we'll grab the necessities. We should have you moved in within a few days."

"Oh! This is so excitin'!" Barbara Jean giggled. "I've never really lived with someone I was dating. I mean, I lived with Brock for a few months before we were married, but he was married to you and I was pregnant, so we kinda had to. I mean-"

"Barbara Jean?" Reba interrupted.

"yeah?"

"Can we just go, please?"

Barbara Jean nodded and the pair began walking towards the door. Cheyenne, however, cut in front of them, Van on her heels.

"Gotta go, mom! Late for school!"

"I have to go, too. Those houses won't sell themselves, you know!"

"Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, you two! What about Elizabeth?" The pair turned around, confused. "Your daughter?" Reba supplied.

"We know who she is, mom," Cheyenne answered. "We'd just assumed you'd watch her."

"Well, I'm busy today. One of you will have to bring her along. Come on, Barbara Jean," Reba said, pulling a jacket on. And grabbing her purse before exiting, Barbara Jean following closely.

"Reba!" Barbara Jean whispered as they walked to the redhead's car.

"What is it?" Reba asked.

"We're wearing our clothes from yesterday," the blonde hinted. "We never got changed."

"So?"

"So," Barbara Jean trailed off, her eyes deliberately staring at Reba's shirt.

"Crap!" Reba said, catching on as she realized two things. One: Brock hadn't merely unbuttoned her shirt in his haste the day before, he ripped it open. This meant that a number of buttons for the top half of her shirt had popped. Two: because her shirt's buttons had been popped off, she had been walking around all morning with her bra showing. Reba quickly zipped up the jacket she was now very grateful she had taken. "Thanks!"

Barbara jean nodded, suppressing a giggle, "Any time!"

"What was that about?" Cheyenne asked, peering out the window as the giggling women climbed into Reba's car as Van returned downstairs, Elizabeth in tow.

"Mom's seeing someone," Kyra said, shifting uncomfortably.

"She is not!" Cheyenne argued, shaking her head. "She would have told me! I'm, like, her best friend."

"Well, she didn't tell you. Some best friend."

"Yeah? Know what she did tell me? Shut up, Kyra," Cheyenne retorted, feeling proud.

"No, seriously, Cheyenne. She's seeing… Someone."

"Who?" Cheyenne squealed in excitement. "Is it dad? I saw him coming up the driveway yesterday when I was on my way out."

"You mean she's back with Mr. Hhhhot?" Van asked, smiling. "That's some chemistry. I did think that she was wearing the same outfit as yesterday. She must've snuck out."

"Why would she have done that?" Cheyenne asked.

Van looked at Elizabeth and covered her ears. "Bow-chicka-bow-bow!"

Kyra scowled, angry that the two were so okay with their divorced parents getting back together. It wasn't that she didn't want her parents to be happy, but had they seen their father's track record with marriages? Besides, they hadn't entered the house through the kitchen door and into the family room to see their mother wrap her leg around her father's waist as he kissed her neck and groped her. They hadn't heard her moaning their father's name. Kyra shuddered at the memory from the day before and suppressed the nausea that welled up in her stomach. After that, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look her parents in the face again.

"Jake!" Kyra called, changing the subject as her sister and brother-in-law discussed their divorced parent's sex life. Kyra had her fill of that subject. "Your ride is leaving. Let's go! Now! Move it!"

Jake rushed down the stairs, "I'm coming! Don't have a cow!"

Kyra led the way out of the house as the other four followed close behind.

Hours later, Reba and Barbara Jean gathered the last boxes from the car and carted them to Reba's bedroom. "Reba, I can't believe this is my room now, too! This is so excitin'!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air and spinning in a circle.

She stopped suddenly as she caught sigh of Reba peeling off her jacket.

Lugging boxes had made Reba's half-open shirt bunch in the back, causing it to hug her in all the right places. Particularly, her chest, which was eagerly attempting to pop the remaining buttons.

"What?" Reba asked as Barbara Jean eyed her. "What is it?"

"You look hot!" the blonde answered, still unable to tear her eyes away.

Reba blushed, "No I don't. I'm all sweaty and I haven't showered yet today, and my hair is a mess, an-"

"You look hot!" Barbara Jean repeated, interrupting her. She stepped closer and kissed Reba gently on the lips.

Reba smiled flirtatiously and sauntered to the bed. "Hot, really? What, exactly, is hot?"

"Well, the shirt, to start with," Barbara Jean answered, following Reba.

"Really?" Reba asked, pulling her close. Something in Reba snapped and, although she had never bee the aggressive one when it came to her relationship with Barbara Jean, she could herself sweeping the boxes from the bed and pushing her larger companion onto it. She then climbed onto the bed as well, straddling Barbara Jean's hips.

"Reba!" Barbara Jean gasped in surprise. The redhead only smiled in return and leaned in to kiss her. "You shirt," Barbara Jean said once Reba had pulled away.

Reba looked down and found that her shirt was holding on by four measly buttons. She shrugged, knowing it would be too much trouble to repair. She tore her shirt open, popping the remaining buttons, and threw it behind her.

Barbara Jean watched Reba with amazement. Reba never took charge like this and this aggressive side was one Barbara Jean was enjoying.

Reba paused for a moment, deciding the best way to remove Barbara Jean's shirt. She smiled wickedly, having made her decision. The redhead leaned in and began kissing Barbara Jean's neck as she slowly undid the first button. She then kissed this newly exposed skin as her fingers expertly worked the next button.

Barbara Jean arched her back, moaning in the back of her throat. She moved to help Reba with the buttons, wanting to get this layer of cloth separating her body from Reba's off, but Reba swatted her hands away and continued her- in Barbara Jean's opinion- painstakingly slow and teasing work.

Reba trailed kisses back to Barbara Jean's neck while pinning her arms to the bed by entwining their fingers.

Barbara Jean moaned again, desperately wanting Reba to remove her shirt.

Instead, Reba nibbled at her ear. "I love you, Barbara Jean," she whispered.

Barbara jean responded by pulling Reba into an intense kiss, which Reba melted into. Never one to miss an opportunity, Barbara Jean took advantage or Reba's brief lapse of control and tore off her own shirt, throwing it as Reba had.

"Hey!" Reba laughed breathily into her lover's ear. "You cheated! I had plans for that shirt."

"Have I been a bad girl?" Barbara jean asked, feigning innocence. "If I've been naughty, you should punish me." She shifted her legs slightly beneath Reba causing her to gasp in pleasure.

Quickly regaining her composure, Reba smiled seductively. "I intend to." She leaned in and kissed Barbara Jean again, her hands beginning to roam.

Suddenly, Barbara Jean stopped kissing back and she grabbed Reba's hands, stopping their exploration.

"What?" Reba asked, pulling away.

"I…" Barbara Jean stuttered. "What made you stop yesterday? With Brock."

Reba's face took on an embarrassed look. "I…" she sighed. "He didn't ask."

Barbara Jean looked confused. "Ask?"

"Before you unzip me. You ask. He didn't ask. He just… Didn't. And you always ask. It was this sweet, respectful, mood-killing thing you always did to make sure you weren't pushing me or forcing me to do anything I wasn't ready for."

"And that's what shocked you out of it?" the blonde asked. Reba nodded. "Reba?" Barbara Jean moved her fingers towards the redhead's jeans' button.

Reba smiled, "The answer will always be yes. But… I love that you ask."

Barbara Jean returned the smile and helped Reba peel her jeans from her legs, tossing them.

Reba quickly returned the favor, careful not to let her companion stray too much from her position on the bed.

Clad only in bras and panties each, Reba again straddled Barbara Jean.

Barbara Jean eagerly pulled Reba into a kiss, which Reba hungrily returned. She then quickly removed Reba's bra before rolling over so that she was on top of Reba. She circled Reba's erect nipple with her tongue causing the redhead to moan loudly as she threw her head back in pleasure.

Reba bit her lip, moaning, as she fought to regain control as Barbara Jean kissed her neck and ran her hands down her body.

Reba finally rolled herself over, straddling Barbara Jean once again. She leaned in and blew in the blonde's ear causing her to arch her back again, moaning with desire. Barbara Jean ran her hands down Reba's back as the redhead stuck her tongue in her companion's ear.

"Mom? Sorry I didn't know. I just wanted to grab a- Oh, my God!" the women heard a voice screech.

Reba froze, eyes widened in shock and fear. She heard footsteps retreat and a door down the hall slam. Reba quickly removed herself from Barbara Jean's body and pulled on a bathrobe, Barbara jean following suit.

"What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?" Barbara Jean panicked as she paced. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!"

Reba grabbed the taller woman by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "It's. Okay. Now, let's go talk to Kyra." Barbara Jean nodded in response.

The pair walked to Kyra's bedroom and knocked.

"I don't want to talk to either of you!"

Reba sighed, "We need to talk. Open the door, or I will."

Silence.

"Fine." the door swung open and Kyra retreated back to her bed.

Reba took a deep breath and walked into the room. "Now, Barbara Jean and I want to explain what you saw. Right, Barbara Jean?" The redhead turned around. "Barbara Jean! Get in here!"

The blonde quickly shuffled in, eyes downcast. "Right!"

"I know what I saw. I'm 17. But I suppose now we know why Cheyenne became a teenage mother."

"What is that supposed to mean, Kyra Eleanor Hart?" Reba asked, anger evident in her voice.

"Well, she had to learn it somewhere," Kyra answered dryly.

"Learn what?" Reba demanded. "Because you will not disrespect me or imply anything about your sister."

"I saw you," Kyra responded simply.

"Yes, we know," Barbara Jean interjected. "That's why we're having this _fun_ little conversa-"

"No, mom," Kyra interrupted, looking solely at her mother. "I saw you."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Reba asked, losing her temper. "Saw m-"

"I saw you with dad!"


	3. Chapter 3

Reba's voice caught in her throat and she paled as what her daughter had just said sank in.

"You… What?" Reba asked, finally finding her voice.

"I saw you with dad."

"But… But… No," Reba argued, clutching her heart.

"Reba!" Barbara Jean moved to support her.

"No. You can't. You… No one was home. How could? No." Reba held out a hand to calm her lover.

"I saw you," Kyra repeated.

"You have to understand," Reba began, fearing her daughter would hate Brock, "your father's not to blame."

"Who said I was blaming _just_ him?"

"Hey! Don't blame the victim!" Barbara Jean exclaimed. "They say that's why more don't come forward!"

"Victim?" Kyra asked, confused. "You must have heard a different story, Barbara Jean. Mom was hardly a victim."

"No," the blonde argued. "You don't know the full story!"

"Stop," Reba said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I… I don't want her to know."

"Don't want me to know what? That you and dad are back together? Or that you're a big slut?" Kyra asked angrily.

"She is your _mother_!" Barbara Jean yelled. "You don't talk to her like that!"

"She is, Barbara Jean! You didn't see them!"

"No, _you_ didn't see them! You didn't see wha-"

"No! I said I don't want her to know!"

"So you would rather have her disrespect you because she doesn't have all the facts?"

"Don't want me to know what?" Kyra demanded.

"If that's what it takes," Reba said, talking to the blonde. "I don't want her to know."

"Know what?"

"Your father and mother didn't have sex yesterday."

"Barbara Jean! Stop!"

"What do you mean?" Kyra asked.

"Stop, Kyra! Don't listen!"

"He nearly raped her."

"Wh- What?" Kyra stuttered, shocked.

"Barbara Jean!"

"He did, Reba. I saw it. I heard you crying. I sat beside you as you cried yourself to sleep."

"Mom, I-" Tears welled up in Kyra's eyes as she hugged her crying mother. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

Reba shook her head in an attempt to banish her tears and hugged her daughter tightly. "Kyra, there was no way you could have known. It's okay."

"It's not!"

Both redheads looked over, shocked at the outburst, to see a crying Barbara Jean.

"Why do you pretend it's okay, Reba? You know it's not. If I hadn't showed up…" Barbara Jean shook her head, unable to finish the thought. She crossed and sat on the other side of Reba and took her hand. "You don't have to pretend to be tough and say it's okay. It's okay to hurt. You can be angry, you can be hurt. Just let it out, Re-"

Kyra interrupted Barbara Jean, '"Mom, did he hurt you? So help me, if he hurt you, mom…"

"Whoa, everybody calm down," Reba said, taking charge as she always did in times of high emotion. "Kyra, don't be angry with your father, he di-"

"He hurt you, mom! How can I not be angry?"

"Kyra! Listen to me. From what you said you saw," Reba wiped her eyes of the more recent tears, "you know that I wasn't sayin' no the whole time. So, when I started saying no, he didn't believe it. Your father is not a monster, you know that. He may have hurt me a lot in the past, but I don't believe that he would ever physically hurt me. If I can forgive him, so can you. I promise you, I am okay."

"Mom, that's what you claimed all day of Cheyenne and Van's second wedding. And you weren't okay then."

"This is different. That wasn't something I could monitor, this is. I am promising you, Kyra, I am okay."

Kyra nodded reluctantly.

"And Barbara Jean," Reba said, turning to the woman on her other side, "I am not pretending. I wasn't okay. But you fixed that. When God closes a door, he opens a window. The whole thing with Brock opened up this door with you. So, yes, yesterday was bad, but it meant that _we_ stopped pretending. It means that you're moving in and that we can have a real relationship. God answered every one of my prayers that I had asked of him during the separation."

"What did you ask for, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, like a little kid asking what happens next in a bedtime story.

"I asked," Reba said, kissing Barbara Jean's hand, "for love. I asked to be happy again. And God answered my prayers with you. It took a while, and my prayers were set on the back burner for a few years. But He didn't forget them. After all these years, He sent me you."

"So, you two are together, then?" Kyra asked. Reba smiled, still looking at Barbara Jean, and nodded. "Together in that Van's agent kind-of-way?"

Reba laughed and hugged Kyra close again. "We're a couple, Kyra."

Kyra looked at the pair with raised eyebrows. "I seem to recall you making a huge deal out of Van saying that you were 'Super Gay.' You just didn't want to be pushed out of the closet?"

"Oh, stop!" Reba said, swatting Kyra's leg.

"I remember that!" Barbara Jean said, with a start. "You did make a huge deal out of it. If you like women, why _didn't_ you go?"

Reba shook her head. "Well, I would have. She just wasn't the woman I had in mind, though. She seemed nice, but all as I got ready for my 'date,' I kept thinking of this blonde goofball. Then, when I was talking to her, I saw said goofball standing outside and I just couldn't go through with it."

Barbara Jean's face took on an expression that clearly read 'Awwwww!!!'

"Get a room," Kyra muttered.

"Well, you see, we had. But _someone_ didn't knock when trying to steal earrings from me- by the way, don't do that! Then I can't find them when I want them-, effectively killing the moment."

Kyra shuddered. "This is a bit much for one day. I don't need to see my mother nearly having sex twice in two days. In fact, I don't need to see it ever. I'm just gonna get those earrings and go out with my friends."

"Kyra! You put my earrings back when you're done with them!" Reba yelled after her daughter.

Kyra came back into her room and hugged her mother. "I'm really sorry, mom. And I'm really glad you're okay. I love you."

Reba hugged her daughter, surprised at the turn of events. "I love you, too, baby," she said as her daughter walked out of the room again.

"That went better that I thought it would," Barbara Jean said, leaning her head on Reba's shoulder.

Reba nodded, still staring after Kyra.

"Well," Barbara Jean began, "maybe we should finish moving me in?"

"You know what? I have all this energy now. Let's get more boxes from your apartment. Then we can buy some new sheets while we're out. I want something that says that we both sleep in that room."

Barbara Jean nodded, surprised. "I'd like that!"

"But," Reba said, taking a deep breath. "I want to get a shower first."

Barbara Jean nodded that she understood. "How about you do that and I'll pick up some more boxes and I'll pick you up here after so we can get sheets?"

"Sounds perfect, honey."

Barbara Jean kissed Reba gently on the lips and squeezed her hand in a comforting way. "Forty-five minutes?" Reba nodded in response.

Forty-five minutes later exactly, Barbara Jean entered the Hart household and walked upstairs.

"What are you doing?"

Reba was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a towel on her wet head and a fresh bathrobe on, scissors in hand. Feathers were scattered all over the room and three sheets had already been cut and shredded.

"I want a fresh start!" Reba said, tearing into the comforter, tears running down her cheeks. "I… I never bought new sheets after Brock left. The room just… Reeked of him. I couldn't…"

Barbara Jean knelt beside the redhead and hugged her. "It's okay," she whispered. "We can get rid of these. We're gonna get new sheets, a new comforter, new pillows, everything. Come on. Get dressed. And these?" Barbara Jean gestured to the torn blankets, "we'll burn. Okay?"

Reba nodded and accepted the taller woman's assistance in standing.

Reba got changed quickly and the couple went out and bought everything Barbara Jean had promised.

After putting the new sheets on the bed, Reba collapsed into the bed, exhausted.

"Goodnight, Reba-roo-roo," Barbara Jean said, climbing into bed beside the redhead. Reba rolled closer and encircled the blonde's arms around her waist.

"Goodnight, beary-babs," Reba breathed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Barbara Jean smiled and hugged Reba tighter as she, too, fell asleep.

"Hey, Kyra," Brock said, entering the Hart household though the back door. "Where's your mom?"

Kyra scowled despite what her mother had asked of her. "Why?"

"I want to talk to her, Kyra. Now, do you know where she is or not?"

Kyra paused, torn between kicking him out while yelling at him and telling him where her mother was.

The latter won out.

"She's in bed," Kyra said, smiling.

"Okay, thanks, honey. I'm going to go talk to her." He started to walk away but turned around. "If you hear yelling, it's okay. Me and your mom just have to straighten something out."

Kyra nodded. She finished pouring her cereal and walked to the foot of the stairs as her father bounded up. She leaned on the railing, a spoonful raised to her mouth, waiting.

"Oh my God!"

Kyra smiled and ate a spoonful of cereal and began walking back to the kitchen to sit at the table and finish her breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

"What the-?!" Reba groaned, closing her eyes tightly against the sudden light that was pouring into the room.

She shifted her weight as she felt Barbara Jean stir beneath her head.

"Fifteen more minutes, mom" Barbara Jean muttered, turning over in her sleep and dislodging Reba.

"Ooff!" Reba groaned as her head hit the bed. Reba couldn't help but laugh, "Barbara Jean!"

"Barbara Jean!? Reba!?"

Wide-eyed, Reba sat upright. "Brock?!"

"Brock!?" Barbara Jean repeated as she sat up, suddenly very awake as well.

"What is _this_?" Brock asked, still shocked.

Reba's shock, on the other hand, was quickly turning to rage. "What are you doing in my bedroom, you mo-ron?"

"What are you doing in this _house_?" Barbara Jean demanded, wrapping her arm around Reba protectively as she recalled the last time Brock had been in the house.

"I was… I just… Why are _you_ in _bed_ with Reba?" Brock stammered.

"I don't think that it's any of your business, Brock," Barbara Jean answered smiling smugly as she hugged Reba tighter.

Brock refused to be ignored, though. "Did you two _sleep together_?"

Reba was suddenly aware of how exposed she felt and she hugged the covers tighter to her chest as she scooted closer to Barbara Jean.

When he got no answer, Brock decided to ask again. Less tactfully.

"Are you fucking Reba?" Brock demanded, turning his gaze on the blonde.

Barbara Jean smiled again as she looked Brock directly in the eyes. "Not right now."

"What?" Brock thundered. "Reba, I… Is this true?"

Reba looked up from her hands and nodded slowly, almost terrified of his reaction.

However, Brock's reaction was far from what Reba expected. His face broke into a smile as he stepped closer.

"A bed full of Brock-lovin' ladies," he nodded. "I like it."

Barbara Jean glared angrily as he put one knee onto the bed. She extended her leg and kicked his knee from the bed. "You are _not_ getting into this bed."

"Oh, come on!" Brock snorted. "You both know you love me. What could be better? I would've asked for this years ago, but I thought you would both say no."

"We are," Barbara Jean said. "We didn't ask for a third."

"Oh, stop," Brock said, again putting his knee onto the bed. "No woman can down Brock."

"Can't say that anymore," Barbara Jean sighed, "because two just did."

"Well," Brock said, crawling closer, "technically, two didn't Reba hasn't said anything. Have you, red?"

Reba felt Barbara Jean's eyes boring into her as she again stared at her hands as she wrung the blanket.

"No," she breathed.

"What?" Brock asked in disbelief.

"I said, 'No,'" Reba repeated.

Brock glared at Barbara Jean. "This is all _your_ doing," he accused. "Two days ago, she couldn't keep her hands off me!"

"Nothing would make me happier than to be the reason she came to her senses! She was always too good for you! And now she knows it! She's not your possession. She never was," Barbara Jean said, kneeling as she put herself between Brock and the woman she loved.

"No!" Reba gasped as Brock's anger boiled over and he back-handed Barbara Jean.

Barbara Jean winced but didn't move. "She's not your possession," she repeated. "You can't _touch_ her."

Seething, Brock pushed the blonde out of the way and advanced on Reba.

"Barbara Jean!" Reba gasped, moving to where the blonde had fallen. She was laying on the floor unconscious and Reba could see a dark red spot forming beneath her blonde hair clearly telling her that the blonde had hit her head on the bedside table. Reba reached for Barbara Jean but found herself being roughly pulled back.

"Tell her!" Brock demanded.

"Get off me! I have to get to Barbara Jean!" Reba said, struggling against his grip.

"No! Tell Barbara Jean you love me!"

"You hurt her! I have to help her! She's bleeding!" Reba protested, ignoring his pleas.

"No! Stop worrying about her!" Brock said, pushing Reba down and holding her arms above her head with one hand. "You love me! Not her! Me! Always me!"

Brock unzipped his pants as he forced Reba's legs open with his knees.

"Brock! Stop it! You're hurting me!" Reba cried. "Please!"

"Reba, you love me," Brock told her, as if saying so justified what he was about to do.

"Brock! Reba cried again. "Please! Please don't do this. This isn't you, Brock. Please!"

She was sobbing now, causing Brock to pause, almost awakening… Until-

"Please, we have to get BJ to the ER. It could be serious!"

He growled in response as he forced himself on her, causing her to cry out.

"Dad!"

Brock stopped, letting go of Reba's wrists as he half turned around. "Kyra?"

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Brock saw Reba's porcelin lamp racing toward his head.

"Kyra!" Reba breathed, crawling out from a now unconscious Brock and a tumault of broken glass. She wrapped her youngest daughter in a tight hug. Reba felt Kyra's tears through her nightdress and hugged her tighter. "It's okay, hunny. It's all gonna be okay," she soothed.

"No," Kyra croaked. "No it's not. My father is a monster."

Reba bit her lip. She couldn't defend him after this second event, but she couldn't deny this was very out of character. She kept thinking, though, if Kyra hadn't distracted him…

Instead of responding, Reba pulled away and picked up the phone receiver.

"911? This is an emergency. My girlfriend is bleeding and unconscious and my ex-husband is unconscious on my bed," Reba blurted.

An hour later, a thoroughly cried-out Reba was waiting anxiously outside Barbara Jean's hospital room with an equally anxious Kyra.

"Mrs. Hart?" a doctor asked.

"Yes? What? What is it? Is she going to be okay?" Reba demanded, standing up.

"We expect Mr. Hart will make a full recovery," the doctor said smiling. "He wants to see you." The doctor pointed to a room down the hall.

"I don't care about that mo-ron! What about Barbara Jean?"

"Ms. Booker-Hart? Are you family?"

"She's my girlfriend," Reba answered quickly, she peered at the chart before pointing to her name. "Reba Hart."

"Ah, yes," the doctor nodded, looking at the name Reba pointed to. "You're listed under next of kin. Ms. Booker-Hart is also expected to make a full recovery. She's not awake just yet. You can wait with her if you'd like."

Reba nodded vigorously and headed towards the door.

"Mrs. Hart?" Reba stopped. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Reba stared back at the doctor, confused. "Mr. Hart?"

Reba paused, her hand on the door handle. "Tell him t stay away from me. And Barbara Jean. And the kids."

"Mrs. Hart! I'm sure you can work this out!" the doctor stumbled, feeling uncomfortable taking that message back to a patient.

"He tried to rape me," Reba said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wide-eyed, the doctor quickly strode away, leaving Reba to push open the door to Barbara Jean's room, Kyra closely behind.

No sooner had Reba pulled a chair to Barbara Jean's bedside and sat down than a policeman entered the room.

"Mrs. Hart?" Reba looked up as she held Barbara Jean's hand tightly. "I'm told that you're claiming a Mr. Brock Hart has attempted to rape you?"

Evan as he repeated her accusation, Reba could tell he didn't believe her.

"Yes," she answered stiffly, looking back at Barbara Jean. She looked so peaceful, almost as if she were only sleeping.

"I have some questions about the alleged rape-"

"It's not 'alleged'!" Kyra interrupted, getting out of her chair in the corner. "I saw it!"

"Don't bother, Kyra," Reba said, her eyes still on Barbara Jean. "You clearly don't recognize him. This is one of your fathers golf buddies. The same one who refused to arrest him during the separation when your father broke into our house, drunk off his ass, and tried to have sex with me."

Reba wasn't quite sure when exactly the man's identity had flooded back to her, but now she couldn't imagine how she had forgotten.

"Mom, you're not _seriously_ telling me that you're not going to press charges!" Kyra exclaimed in disbelief. She couldn't believe her mother was behaving so calmly!

"Not if this man is investigating," Reba answered calmly.

"Mrs. Hart, we'll need you to consent to a rape kit," the policeman continued as though he hadn't heard the two discussing him.

"I'm not leaving Barbara Jean's side," Reba said stubbornly. "This is all my fault. I won't leave her."

"Mom! You can't seriously let dad go unpunished! You have to do the rape kit! You _have_ to press charges!"

"Kyra Eleanor Hart, I will _not_ leave her side. I will not let her wake up alone. She didn't let me wake up alone, I won't let her."

"What? When?" Kyra asked, thoroughly confused.

"During Cheyenne's second wedding You were still away, playing for the soldiers, but my blood pressure went through the rood and I passed out. She ran behind the ambulance because she wasn't technically allowed to ride with me. Then, when I woke up…" Tears were swimming behind Reba's eyes now. "She was right there, holding me hand." Reba squeezed the blonde's hand tightly in both of her own.

"That's all very well and good, but the rape kit needs to happen soon, Mrs. Hart," the policeman stated apathetically.

"Get out. Just… Get out," Reba answered, unable to tear herself away.

"No! Mom! I'll stay with BJ! She won't be alone! Not even for a second! Let them do the exam," Kyra pleaded, "please."

Reba finally tore her eyes away from Barbara Jean's face and saw the tears welling up in hr daughter's eyes. She nodded, "Very well. Let her know I'll hurry back."

Reba kissed Barbara Jean's hand before standing up as Kyra crossed to her mother's chair and was tightly enveloped in a hug.

"Don't leave her, Kyra," Reba whispered.

Then, after kissing Barbara Jean gently on the lips, Reba strode from the room, the officer following.


End file.
